Bruce awoke before the alarm. He had barely slept at all but this was a moot point as his body had become accustomed to waking at this hour regardless of his level of fatigue. As the days stretched into weeks since his return to Gotham his body had managed to adapt itself to the rigorous new demands of his morning ritual. His body had adapted to life back in Gotham even if his mind and heart remained in Florence.
Bruce rolled over and faced the empty expanse of bed that should have held her, that could have held her if he had not insisted that she stay behind. He pressed his fingers to his eyes rubbing the hot orbs until light sparkled behind the closed lids. He had regretted every second of their last face to face. He could still hear himself saying those words, telling her that he didn't want her in Gotham with him…telling her that he didn't need her here...telling her that she would only be a hindrance to him if she came…that she would just be a weakness for the Joker to exploit. He had told her that he had Blake now so he didn't need her help anymore.
That had finally done the trick. Selina had looked at him after he said it like he had slapped her across the face. In truth, he practically had. With that statement, he had discounted everything she had been to him, everything she had been to Gotham.
He would never forget the look on her face.
She had been sitting on the light blue duvet that covered the bed they shared in Alfred's guest room wrapped in a white robe after having shed her rain-soaked running gear. She dried her hair and argued her point while he packed a small carry on for his flight back to Gotham. She tried reasoning with him, then negotiating, and then finally all out demanding that he relent and agree to her accompanying him back to the city. She had fought to keep them together until that sentence came out of his mouth. Then there was just an icy silence that filled the room between them.
Bruce had watched her face harden into a mask of calm control. He watched as her defenses slid into place between them, but they were too late to save her from the impact of his words. He had already hurt her. He had dropped everything in his hands and took two quick strides intercepting her as she was moving toward the door. Bruce held her tightly against his chest while he whispered a quiet apology into her ear. He swore to her that it was his desperation speaking and that he had not meant a word of what he had said.
She had simply nodded, "I know you didn't, Bruce, but I'm going to just sit here and listen to this shit." She took a deep breath, "I know what that bastard did to you, Bruce. I know what he took from you. I get it." She had pulled away from him giving a reassuring squeeze to his biceps, "I get it." She paused at the door of the room and looked regretfully over her shoulder, "But knowing all of that Bruce, knowing exactly what he is capable of…can you blame me for wanting to go back with you? Can you blame me for wanting to be there beside you when you face him? I understand why you want me to stay clear, just don't expect me to be happy about it. And don't expect me to stay on the sidelines for long. I know how to handle myself. I've made the difference between your success and failure before, Wayne. Don't forget that."
Those were the last words spoken between them before he and Alfred were in the air bound for the states.
Midway across the North Atlantic, he had wished that he had Alfred to stay behind as well. The English gentleman was displeased with how he handled the situation and had remained unusually silent throughout the flight. Silent until Bruce made the mistake of trying to justify to him why he had left Selina behind. Alfred had not hesitated in recounting Bruce's own words as he reminded him of Fox's warning that he should not try to control her.
Bruce growled aloud as he rolled in the bed and came to rest on his back. He shoved a balled fist under his head and glared up at the ceiling. Alfred understood why I couldn't have her here in Gotham. He hadn't needed to hear my futile explanations on the flight. It had nothing to do with her taking time away from Blake's training or distracting me from finding the Joker. It was about Rachel. Alfred and I both knew that was at the core of it. Hell, Selina even knew it.
After listening to his string of excuses Alfred had just sighed and given a suffering look before breaking down the situation, "Master Wayne, had you brought the missus with, you would have likely spent the past four hours strategizing on the Joker's whereabouts and formulating a plan for finding him instead of worrying over the status of your fledgling relationship. So, remind me again of how in her absence Ms. Kyle is somehow less of a distraction?"
Bruce had opened his mouth to retort to that statement and abruptly snapped it shut. He slipped his phone out of his pocket, walked to the rear of the plane, and dialed her number. She picked up on the third ring, but static-filled silence was his only greeting. "Selina." As her name escaped his throat he dropped into a padded chair and lowered his head into his hand, raking his fingers through his dark hair. Her name was an echo of pain. "I'm sorry, Selina. I shouldn't have asked you not to come. I was wrong to do it. Very wrong to say what I did to you to force you to stay. You know how much I love you. I'm just…" His voice trailed out and he let out a frustrated breath.
She finally spoke to his emotional state, "You are afraid."
Hearing her say that brought him up rigid in the aircraft's leather recliner. He searched himself for a response and his lips pressed into a hard line, "Yes I am, Selina. The Joker has given me every reason to fear him. I know the kind of things he is capable of." There was no response to his words as she just let him work through the emotions on his own. "But that doesn't make what I did right, Selina. I will book you a flight out of Florence in the morning to Gotham or I can get you a private charter—"
"No." Her reply was firm and he could tell by the tone that she was beyond influence. "Bruce, if my being there weakens you, then you were right to ask me not to go with you. You need to be free to deal with things in Gotham without worrying about me every step of the way. When I said I understand I do." There was a long pause, "You don't have to worry about me, Bruce...just go handle your business."
He had heard the grim finality in her voice. Even after she assured him that she would be there for him when this was over, he had felt unsteady. I hadn't needed the Joker to break us apart, I did it myself. Who needed a painted lunatic to destroy things when I was lunatic enough to do it myself? He tried then to tell her that he wanted her with him, that he needed her beside him, but he couldn't bring himself to say the words. He couldn't bring himself to beg the woman he loved to come to Gotham to do battle with this demon. Not this one, Selina. Not the Joker.
The alarm on the nightstand sounded and Bruce silenced it with a practiced flick of his wrist. He pressed his thumb against his eyes and tried to think through the blossoming pain in his head. He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed and paused for a moment as he ran his hands vigorously over his face. He heard Alfred walk into the room likely to assure that the alarm had managed to awaken him. Bruce kept his head bowed as Alfred laid a warm hand on his bare shoulder, "Did you get much rest, Master Wayne?"
Bruce nodded and patted Alfred's hand, comforting the old gentleman. Bruce knew he was concerned at how hard he had been pushing himself and Blake. But it had to be done. He had to do everything in his power to get the kid ready before the Joker reappeared.
In the weeks since his escape from Arkham Asylum, it had become eerily calm in Gotham. The entire city seemed to be holding its collective breath waiting on the green-haired monster to unleash his special brand of terror upon the city. With his foreboding silence, the Joker managed to accomplish what even the destruction of Bane's regime had not, the threat of the Joker was causing a mass expatriation of citizens from Gotham City.
The news media was calling it an exodus from evil as hundreds a day were pulling up stakes and evacuating the city. Gotham's citizens had finally had enough of the insanity and were fleeing. Dozens of prominent business had pulled their headquarters out of Gotham eager for a chance to restructure elsewhere in a climate that was more conducive to regrowth rather than chance a rebuild in a precarious economy with the threat of the Joker looming on the horizon.
Bruce had spent his fair share of time in the spotlight reassuring the citizens through various media outlets that Wayne Enterprises was staying the course and that both he and his company remained invested in the city of Gotham and the recovery efforts.
On days like today, it was the responsibility he felt to Blake and Gotham that gave him the strength to face it all again. Bruce forced himself to move, he grabbed up the grey sweatpants Alfred had laid out for him, pulling them over his black boxer briefs. A plain hooded grey sweatshirt followed and then socks and running shoes. He stretched the kinks out of his back as he stood. When he took the first steps to the bathroom, he nearly smiled. Pain-free knees were still a novelty to him. He flexed his shoulders and elbows and shook his head marveling at the improvement in his mobility. Selina's words echoed in his head, 'Too bad the Doc doesn't treat broken backs and concussions, you would be damn near bionic, Wayne.' He sighed and mumbled to himself, "Damn if I don't miss that smart mouth of hers."
Blake was waiting in the main room talking quietly with Alfred when Bruce arrived. When he walked in, Blake stood and looked at him expectantly. Bruce gestured to the rear of the penthouse. "Weights and Jujutsu today," he informed Blake matter-of-factly.
Blake nodded and made his way back to begin his warm-up. After several runs through a Tai Chi stretching and balance routine, Blake found himself relaxing even though he knew the following session with Wayne would likely be brutal hands-on fighting.
Jujutsu was a weaponless close-combat martial art designed for defeating armed and armored opponents. Today's lessons would likely entail learning joint locks, holds, and throws. At least he knew what to expect today, often Bruce didn't even tell him what martial art form he was learning. He would just demonstrate the skills, and they would work on his form until Blake was able to reproduce it flawlessly.
Before the session ended, Bruce would take him into the center of the padded mat and they would run through all of the maneuvers that he had learned. It was more a mental challenge than a physical one for Blake, but if he forgot a defensive trap or a counter maneuver, the correction was swift, immediate, and very physical. Bruce would hammer him hard to the mat and then help him silently back to his feet. He would review the flawed skill and then they would begin again.
The combat training had muscles aching in his body that Blake had never even known existed. After their morning sessions, he would limp back to shower in what had officially become his room in the Wayne penthouse while Bruce took coffee with Alfred in the kitchen. Alfred would give him the rundown on his itinerary for the day and Bruce would pound down one of those god-awful green wheatgrass protein shakes before showering and heading into the office with Alfred at the wheel of the Benz or the Rolls. Blake would inhale a huge breakfast prepared by Mr. Pennyworth and then it was back to training.
From eight to noon he took martial arts lessons from two staple instructors hand-picked by Wayne and imported directly from the respective birth lands of their disciplines. Karate on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays with an ancient Japanese instructor from Okinawa and Kung-Fu on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays with a young, very intense Chinese man based out of Hong Kong. Then it was a lunch Alfred had left ready for him in the fridge and a short nap if he was lucky before the afternoon sessions began. He always looked forward to those as they offered the greatest variety in his training. An assortment of instructors would visit, many of who spoke little to no English. They offered sessions in stick fighting, grappling, and occasionally throwing arts and sword handling.
Often by the end of these sessions, Wayne was back from the office. Blake and Alfred would have dinner together while Bruce dined alone in his private study or if the weather permitted on the balcony overlooking the city. Then like clockwork, thirty minutes after Alfred cleared the dishes he would emerge and Blake would fall in behind him and they would disappear together into the safe room. From there Wayne would take him below Gotham City and the practical training began.
With suits on and masks in place, they would face one another like armored gladiators. Bruce would pace him through his skills showing him how to fight while wearing the cape and cowl. Only then, under the cover of night and in the secluded darkness of the tunnels below Gotham would Bruce speak to him about invisibility and the art of Ninjutsu.
Blake remembered the first time he heard Bruce whisper the word. 'Ninjutsu.' It felt like Wayne was sharing a dark and personal secret, "It is the art of forbearance, patience, self-control, restraint, and tolerance. It is Japanese in origin and was practiced by assassins in ancient feudal Japan. It is a discipline based in stealth and darkness. It is covert warfare. Its practice inspires fear and confusion in its victims and then exploits their weakness." He paused and his eyes grew cold, "It is considered dishonorable to fight using such psychological attacks...dishonorable to pray on the fear of your enemy. By using these skills, you will become below human. You will be shinibi no mono...you will become ninja and be bound by their code. You must accept that you will forever live in the shadows and accept that in death you will remain nameless and the legacy of your battles will belong to only the people you served."
Blake had heard a rustle down the tunnel behind him and turned to look, when he looked back Wayne was gone. He spun a slow circle peering into the darkened corners of the expansive room, his eyes searching for him in the shadows. He flicked on the visor in the cowl and immediately picked up a heat register directly above him. "Might as well come out, Bruce. I see you."
A gloved hand gripped his shoulder and Blake wheeled around, finding Bruce standing silently behind him, "You see only what I allow you to see." Bruce's voice was calm as if it had taken no effort from him at all to elude detection. The voice of the Batman filled the echoing chamber, "You will be schooled in the art of non-detection, avoidance, and misdirection. To satisfy this discipline you will learn disguise, escape, concealment, archery, medicine, explosives, and poisons." Blake had met Bruce's eyes and, at that moment, he understood the true weight and responsibility of the knowledge Bruce carried.
The training Blake was receiving was everything he had dreamed it would be. However, with the enlightenment that came with each completed lesson, Blake could only see how much further there was to go before he would be on equal footing with Wayne. With every skill learned, Blake felt both more in awe of Bruce and more ill at ease with his ability to ever serve in place of him. Gone were the preconceptions he had of Bruce Wayne and to hell and gone were any preconceptions he had ever had of what it meant to be the Batman.
Blake learned the technology behind the Bat quickly under the tutelage of Lucius Fox. He spent countless hours with the patient man in the vaults of Applied Sciences. The blasted floor remained open and served as a perfect drop point to practice with grappling gear and learn the glide skills needed to effectively utilize the tech of Batman.
The job Lucius had done in securing the surrounding tunnels under Wayne Tower had been nothing short of miraculous. He had gone to the extremes of acquiring the subcontractors that had been employed by Daggett Industries and brought them under WE direction as Ginger Fox Construction. Under Fox's direction, they low bid for the city contract on the subterranean inspection, restoration, and remapping of the drainage and sewage systems under Gotham.
Blake had not needed Fox to explain the significance of this coup. He had marveled over the accomplishment when Fox told him, "The city council just turned over the entire substructure of Gotham City to the Batman."
Lucius had smiled back at him and shrugged, "They have tried on countless occasions to present Mr. Wayne with the keys to the city, I guess Bruce was finally ready to take them up on their offer and make himself at home. Besides, I did cut Gotham one heck of a deal on the contract. With what I bid this out for GFC will barely break even on payroll and materials." Fox cackled in obvious pleasure that after all that he gained for Wayne by securing the city contract he was still able to squeeze the construction company through still in the black on their financials. "Now of course Mr. Wayne will be springing for the extra costs on the additional digs. Extending the tunnel out to the Palisades will be no cheap easy task, but when it is completed there will be a private dry channel linking the cave system under Wayne Manor directly to Wayne Tower and the Tower to secure berthing ports all through the city."
Multiple crews from Ginger Fox Construction unknowingly rerouted the existing drainage tunnels around the expansive cavern under WE. City maps were redrawn and the space under Wayne industries simply ceased to exist. The fifty-man crew that had been tasked with pulling off the dig to the Palisades were imported workers from a South American mining company.
It was no coincidence that their drilling company had also been a recent acquisition of Mr. Wayne's. The men were brought into Gotham under heavy cover and compensated handsomely both for their labor and their discretion. The team of men was operating under the impression that they were working at a secret dig site in Australia. The cover story was further reinforced by the security team that watched over them, that had themselves been imported from an offsite WE medical research center near Melbourne. The crew was housed barrack style on the lowest level of Applied Sciences during their stay. The crew was well provided for, but as per their contract, they were required to stay on-premises, and contact with outside sources during the duration of the dig was prohibited.
The diggers had been more than willing to sacrifice their time with family as they had developed a deep loyalty to their new employer. Since new management had taken over the mining company operational safety measures had been employed that resulted in a cessation of precarious digs in non-supported honeycomb tunnels in older mines. The miners and locals had watched in disbelief as charges were set and then cheered as directed blasts closed shut the lucrative but dangerous mineral shafts that had claimed the lives of so many of their native countrymen.
If that had not been enough to sway their loyalty the new owner had brought in medical teams to provide medical care and vaccines to the workers and their families and eventually extended medical support to the people in surrounding villages. Also, the mining company's private security team had quickly and quietly displaced the corrupted military force that had long lorded over the community. It had been a life-altering whirlwind of change for the impoverished community and the mining company had been the catalysts for it all.
A legend had already been born to explain the incredible change in fate. It was widely believed among the locals that it was the flawless purple diamond that had been pulled from the mountainside that had brought forth their good fortune. Miners were treated like heroes in the village and their increased wages drove forward the local economy. So, when the foreman had asked for volunteers to complete a project for their new owner and benefactor there had been so many men eagerly come forward that many had to be turned away.
Blake had seen the crews in action himself. They were the hardest working men he had ever seen. They were also proud. The supervisor had taken him in hand, slammed a hard hat on his head, and practically dragged him over to a tattered map indicating to him the distance they had made for the day. The drill operator had invited him up to see the state-of-the-art rig he had been provided and then walked him personally down into the trenches to observe the clearing progress. Blake's limited Spanish provided for him enough that he was able to tell him good job and thank you. When one of the rock haulers had approached him and asked him a question, Blake was able to decipher that the man was asking the score of a soccer match between Peru and Brazil. Blake was only barely able to communicate that he didn't know.
Later that night with help from Lucius he interrupted the Spanish dubbed movie that had just begun to play on the large flat screen and started a bootleg replay of the soccer match. The cheers and adulation that accompanied the start of the game had moved Blake. Never a fan of soccer he became one that night as he was forced into a chair and a steady flow of imported beer seemingly materialized in his hand can after can. He drank and cheered along with the workers as underdog Peru took down the Brazilian futbol juggernaut three to two.
Lucky for him Fox had thought to smooth over his disappearance that night with Bruce. During the game he had received a text from Fox: 'I notified BW that our "training" was running long this evening. He suggested you not drink too much more as you have an early session with him in the morning.' Blake had smiled down at his phone, "Damn Bruce, you are a scary bastard sometimes."
In all honesty, Bruce was scary most of the time. They had gone out into Gotham together the third week of training. Bruce had led him through a maze of tunnels out into the heart of the city. He had looked at Blake and told him to follow his lead. The next four terrifyingly exhausting hours were spent trying to follow the Batman through an obstacle course of steel and brick as he leapt from building to building, scaling walls with his hydraulic grappling gun and sailing fearlessly off the skyscrapers of Gotham.
During all of this, Bruce remained completely silent. He would watch Blake complete the exercise and wait for him to breathlessly reach his location and then Wayne was off again. Eventually, Blake became more accustomed to the silences while they trained at night. The Batman was meant to be silent. It was when their masks came off that Blake found Bruce Wayne's silences unnerving.
Outside of their morning training sessions Bruce rarely spoke unless Blake or Alfred asked him a direct question. He spent the hours he wasn't working with Blake or at the office on his computer in the study working on analysis of crime patterns in Gotham. Alfred fielded his email correspondences and screened his phone calls. The only calls Blake ever saw get put through were from people on what he had dubbed the shortlist: Pepper Pots, Gordon, Fox, and Selina.
When it was Selina Bruce would stop whatever he was doing and disappear into his room. The aftermath of her calls was either the best of times or worst of times. Blake had learned his lesson quickly on trying to help Wayne through the worst. He had taken a good old-fashioned ass-kicking when he offered to spar with Bruce after one of her calls. He noticed Bruce gloving up and heading for the heavy bag he had foolishly offered to go a few rounds with him. Fifteen minutes later Alfred had been acting as his cut-man tending to his split chin while Bruce went to work on his original target, the three hundred pound heavy bag.
Alfred had ended up doing first aid on the bag as well. He dutifully patched the splits in the sides of the worn leather bag with strips of grey duct tape. Blake had asked Alfred then about the change he saw in Bruce. The old butler just smiled as he pressed the tape onto the bag and said this was Bruce Wayne. Blake was informed then that it was the other side of Bruce that had been the real enigma. That it had been only for Selina Kyle that the laid-back happy Bruce Wayne had ever made an appearance. Blake tried not to show his disappointment when Alfred told him that they weren't likely to see that side of Bruce resurface until Selina either defied his direction and came back to Gotham or Bruce defeated the Joker and went to Italy and collected her himself.
As Bruce walked silently by unwrapping the tape around his wrists Blake realized that either of the scenarios concerning Selina's possible return to Gotham was sounding pretty damn good right about then. Alfred gave him a small knowing smile and patted his knee in reassurance, "I know he doesn't seem the same man to you Master Blake and it is through no fault of your own be assured. This entire business of waiting for the Joker to show himself is taking a toll on the Master's nerves as you might well imagine. The separation from Ms. Kyle only serves to worsen his temperament. The misfortune of navigating that temperament falls to us, lad."
Blake watched Wayne disappear wordlessly through the doorway and he sighed, "I never thought I would ever say it Alfred, but I wish Selina Kyle would bring her ass back to Gotham."
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Edit Credit to CHEED
Edit update 9/28/20
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